Overcoming Grief
by Weskette
Summary: Andrea thinks on how Daryl gave her hope.


**I'm sorry that I haven't been updating with anything Walking Dead as of late. I've been a little messed up. It's hard for me to do, well, anything.**

**On July 10th, a friend of mine was hit by a car and killed. He was seventeen and one of the most talented people I know. He and I had art class together and talked often. We discussed Walking Dead the most. While he wasn't a Andrixon shipper, he did understand why my favorite characters were Andrea and Daryl. He hated when Dale died. He claimed they killed him off too quickly. I agree.**

**If you're interested in seeing his artwork, his deviantart was AJEsimply.**

**I'll be using his name often in my stories.**

**Austin Elmore.**

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**Overcoming Grief**

Have you ever known grief? Raw grief that rips through your body like lightning, shorting out everything there? Truly terrible sorrow that rips your soul to shreds leaving you to clutch to the ragged pieces in hopes they might heal in someway? I have. It's like a flash flood, sweeping you and everything else (your friends, your family, your life) down into the depths. It lodges in your throat, making it hard to breath. It mucks up your eyes so you can't find where help might be. Truthfully, it's the worst thing I've ever experienced. And I've experienced it twice. Amy's death as well as Dale, the two people I could consider family. Of course, now I find both Glenn and T-Dog to be like brothers to me. Daryl, much more than that. But back then it was different.

After Amy's death, I had been suicidal. When I ran from the CDC with Dale (or because of Dale, more like), I had hated the thought of living. When my gun was taken away, I was livid. That was my sole item of protection and a possible way out if I fell further. It took a while, but I was snapped out of my depression by Daryl of all people. He walked into the woods with me, both trusting me and protecting me all while getting me to laugh for the first time since Amy's death. When he asked if I wanted to live, something clicked inside my head. I wasn't sure what, but it did happen. I became stronger after that, modeling myself after Daryl in a way. Even after the hell he had been put through, he still remained strong, still lived and fought. He was a hero, really.

I was different after Dale's death. I wasn't... Openly sad. I only cried at night or when I was alone. I comforted Glenn, taught him how to make room for the pain even though I couldn't. I would step aside when I needed to during that day in order to mourn. To empty myself of the grief pounding in my head. I was caught once. By Daryl.

I was sitting at the base of a tree on the edge of the woods. My legs were drawn up to my chest and my arms were wrapped around them. I had my cheek pressed against my knee and a few tears were trickling out of my eyes. "Andrea?" I heard in a southern accent. I looked up to see Daryl standing a few feet away, his crossbow slung on his shoulder and his leather jacket on. "What're you doin' out here?"

I picked my head up and shrugged. "I just needed... To think." With the back of my hand I brushed the tears away, not wanting to have them seen by Daryl.

He nodded. "I get ya'. It's what I came out here t' do."

I patted the ground beside me. "We can think together if you want."

He shrugged and took the spot I had offered. He was silent and I was silent and that's all there was to it for a good hour. It was nice. No hustle and bustle of camp or threat of gossip to overwhelm us. It was after the first hour that one of us spoke.

"Can't believe he's gone..." Daryl had muttered, shaking his head.

I nodded. "Yeah... It happened too fast. Too soon." There was silence again for a moment before I ended it. "Thank you."

He glanced over at me. "For what?"

I gave him a sad smile. "For letting him die quickly so he wasn't in so much pain..."

Daryl shrugged, eyes being cast towards the ground. "Anyone woulda' done it..."

I shook my head. "No. Rick went to, but couldn't. You're the one that helped Dale. I'm thanking you." More silence prevailed. "I should have done it."

Daryl's attention fell on me and he shook his head. "Nah. You didn't need t' shoot a family member again. It was good you were there for him, though..."

We returned to silence. It was then that I realized that he was probably among the best people I had ever met. Sure, he had some temper problems, but that didn't mean he was a bad person.

After that, I expected things to change. Not much, mind you. Maybe we'd sit next to each other at dinner or something simply because we had exposed the more fragile halves of our personalities to each other.

But that night, the herd came. It was so much bigger than we were used to. At the time, I tried to get Carol to safety. She didn't handle danger very well and I didn't want anyone else to die.

Things went insane. I found myself running through the woods away from an endless stream of walkers, my supply of bullets gradually shrinking until they were gone. That's when I thought I'd die. When I tripped and there was one of those rotting men over me, trying to bite into my flesh. I was so painfully aware of death right then. I knew that the walker over me represented it. Until a blade decapitated it.

That's when I met Michonne. She helped me through the woods that night and, miraculously, we survived. At that time, I hadn't really cared about being seperated from everyone else. It was a broken group. Too much drama and death had ruined it.

Michonne and I traveled together alone for a long while. We were always a little short on food. But walkers stayed away because we smelled like the dead thanks to Michonne's chained zombies.

We were down to our last can of food when we came across a deer with several crossbow bolts protruding from it's body. It had fallen to the ground and was slowly bleeding out.

"We should put it out of it's misery," I had spoke in a low voice. Michonne nodded and took a step forward. With one swing of her katana, it's life was over. It was rigid for a second until going completely limp. I knelt by it. "It'll make for a few good meals," I pointed out.

"You're right," the ex-attorney agreed. She reached into the bag at her side for her smaller knife that she carried.

"Get the fuck away from my deer!" a voice called from the woods. My head snapped around at the voice and I stood. I knew that voice. Daryl stepped out of the trees. "That's my fucking deer!"

I gasped and held myself back from launching at him. "Daryl!" He looked over and a look of surprise passed over his face.

"Andrea? What the hell are you doing out here?" The look on his face changed to disbelief. "Most a' the group thought you were dead."

I smiled and shook my head. "I'm not." I couldn't help but step forward and give him a quick hug. "I... I'm glad to see you." I glanced over at Michonne. "Michonne, this is Daryl. Daryl, Michonne." The two nodded at each other. I had told Michonne of almost everyone in the group. I was sure she'd recognize him as someone I talked about every once in a while.

"Uh," Daryl started. "We gotta place not far from here. I can bring ya' to it. If you want t' fall back in with the group again." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

I looked over at Michonne. "Do you think we should?"

The woman shrugged. "We'd be better off. We don't have any food left." I nodded. It made sense.

"Yeah, Daryl, we'll go," I told him. I wondered if I had imagined the corner of his lips twitching up into a small smile.

That day he led us to the prison, a deer on his shoulders. My first impression of that place went along the lines of "oh, damn".

After that, it actually went pretty well. Plenty of room to get some space if I didn't want to be around people, plenty of rooms to choose from, plenty of food.

What about love? Have you ever known love? It's surprisingly like grief in some ways. It permeates through you and makes it hard to breath. It's a warmth that leaves you in a good mood. But it's also bitter and burns the back of your throat. And it makes you want to simply lay down next to whoever you're in love with and stay there forever. I had only felt it a few times, but in those few months after Daryl brought us to the prison, I found it.

Daryl seemed to be my constant company. He wasn't my only company, of course, but as time passed, when I'd invite him to sit with me and whoever I was talking, the "yes"es became more frequent than the "no"s. We'd sit down next to each other for dinner, and, if I asked, he'd bring me out to hunt. I learned more out in the woods with him than a lifetime in college would've taught me.

It was at the end of the first month back with the group when I really noticed how I might actually like him. The classic, gradeschool "like-like" (I already knew I liked him as a friend).

Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Lori, and I were gathered in the office area of the prison. It was the meeting place whenever we had a problem. Our problem had been the distribution of work among the remaining survivors.

"No work, no food," I stated for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "I really don't see why we have to resort to it. If people would put more effort into what they do."

"I think we should take away privilages, not food," Lori stated in her wavering voice. I rolled my eyes.

"What privilages? Breathing? Seeing? What privilages are there to take away!" Michonne asked, a fierce look on her face. She and I were on the same side, I could tell.

Rick, who had changed considerabley since the farm, scowled. "Privilages of going outside, using boardgames or cards. It's unnecessary to take away food." He rested his thumbs on the inside of his belt.

"Oh no! Take away things that aren't needed!" I said sarcastically, then added seriously, "They'll only work if we threaten to take food away!"

"Because you do so much work," Lori spoke angrily. "You go out hunting with Daryl, but how much work do you really do out there?"

I sneered at her. "What the hell are you insinuating?"

"I think you know perfectly well what I'm insinuating!"

That moment, I nearly went berserk. To hint that I was sleeping with him simply because he and I were hunting together? Together, we provided more for the table than the fucking prison did! If she wanted me to get angry, she was doing everything right. I didn't want to make an enemy of her, but it wasn't like I was exactly friends with her. "Excuse me? Sorry, but I don't fuck every guy I say hi to. You wanna know why?" I pointed to myself. "I'm not," I pointed to her. "You."

Her eyes widened and she made a face as though she hadn't started it. She turned to Rick. He rolled his eyes, sighed, and turned to Daryl. "What do you think, Daryl?"

He looked up from where he was leaning against the wall. " 'Bout how your wife thinks Blondie and I are fucking or about whether or not people oughta work for their food?"

"The second one."

"I'm thinking Elle Woods and Billie Holiday here are right. People gotta work if they want food," he spoke. He left the room after that.

Rick sighed. "Then it's work for food."

With the matter settled, I left. It took a quick jog to catch up to Daryl. "Daryl," I started. "I want to apologize for you being brought up in that argument."

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I try not to take shit that Olive Oyl says very serious." He smirked at me. "Besides, I could take it as a compliment. Ain't like I coulda got a girl like you back when I worked as a mechanic."

I blushed. "Well, it would've been my loss then." I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned to leave. Then turned back. "And did you really reference Legally Blonde back there?"

He shrugged. "Hey, I'm not ashamed of seeing that movie. Had a hot blonde in it. I like blondes." I just laughed, shook my head, and left.

After that, more things changed. We were around each other even more. Our hunting trips became longer. Three hours into four into five.

He was, well, Daryl. As cold as he could be sometimes, he was just fine to me. We talked, though not much. I even made him laugh a few times, and that in it's own was huge.

One hunting trip, we took to tracking a buck. We ended up sleeping out because we were still too far out to get all the way back before dark. I had shoved a blanket into my knapsack before leaving, so I spread it out on the ground for us to sleep.

"You go ahead. I'mma stay up for a bit," he spoke. I nodded and sat down on the blanket. "Get some sleep soon, okay?" He shrugged.

I struggled to get comfortable and he handed me his jacket. "Pillow," he explained. I thanked him. I was asleep in seconds, but it was a good hour before Daryl woke me up.

"Hey... Doll, c'mon, wake up. Easy now." I jerked awake, immediately sitting up.

"What? What is it?" Alarm flared in me.

"Calm down now, Angelface." I realized he was laying beside me, a hand on my shoulder. "You were moving around in your sleep. Mutterin' under your breath. You okay?"

"Yeah... Just nightmares. I'm fine. Being lost in the woods with the herd just messed me up." I rolled over to face away from him. "Sorry if I woke you up." A moment later, I felt his arms wrap around me.

"Yer safe tonight," he mumbled. "I'm not gonna let any more walkers get at ya'."

I can't describe the feeling of it. Everywhere he was touching burned in the best way imaginable. I wanted to stay like that forever. When I finally fell asleep, it was the easiest sleep I had in months. And the fact that Daryl was showing affection for me and in such an intimate way. It seemed I had gotten past the wall he put up to keep out, well, everyone. It felt good to be trusted with that.

We made it back to the jail early in the morning. Daryl had the buck slung over his shoulders and I was carrying a few dead squirrels and rabbits.

It was a few days after that when I kissed him. Or he kissed me. I don't really remember which. We had been bickering, something about cars. Automatics verses standards, I think.

"But automatics are faster. No clutch means less to do before you can drive which makes for a quicker get away," I spoke as I shuffled the deck of cards we were playing with. What we were playing was a two person game of Bullshit. Some of the others had been playing earlier, but retired to bed already. We, on the other hand, had grabbed a small, half empty bottle of whiskey. And were a little bit drunk.

"Bullshit," he stated.

I rolled my eyes. "I haven't even dealt the cards."

"I meant bullshit about automatics. They ain't better than stick shift; they don't give you any control."

I snickered. "You like having control, huh?" A little bit more than our usual flirting, but alchohal was involved. I could be forgiven.

"Damn straight. That's why I drive standards. Not fucking automatics," he declared, not understanding the innuendo in what I had said.

"But sometimes it's better if you don't have control. Things are more... Unpredictable that way." I smirked at him. "I mean, it's good to have control sometimes, but not all the time." So maybe I couldn't be forgiven.

He looked up at me, finally catching on a bit. "Prove it."

I tasted whiskey on his lips but ignored it. And, damn, he was a great kisser. We only broke for air. I found myself in his lap, his hands on my hips and cards shattered everywhere. His lips found my neck after that and my hand tangled in his hair.

"Mmm... I don't think we should do this here..." It was the rec room, afterall. We ended up in his room (I was a little thankful no one saw). He left a hickey just under my shirt line. A hand slipped up my shirt and under my bra. I moaned, but realized that half of everything I felt was still numbed by the whiskey. I stopped him. "We shouldn't do this while we're half drunk..."

He kissed my neck again, and mumbled, " 'm barely buzzed."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, when I'm not half drunk..."

He kissed me once more on the lips and pulled me close. "Later then..." We fell asleep that way.

Even more changed. We actually became a couple, I guess. Not openly. It was kinda nice. Unlike most guys I had dated, Daryl took the relationship seriously. When out salvaging, he'd set aside things he thought I'd like. Anything from clothes to food to even the rare piece of candy would find it's way into my room (it wasn't until a month or so after we got together when I moved into his room).

When the others finally noticed our relationship, they, well, were quite surprised. They had thought we were just friends. Please. Glenn and I were just friends. Michonne and I were best friends. Daryl and I? Much more. I didn't treat Daryl the way I treated Glenn or Michonne. And no one else really saw that (I told Michonne about him, but that's because I knew she could keep a secret, unlike everybody else).

But it practically blew everyone's minds. They never expected it, not when he and I bickered so often. The way they found out was probably a little shocking too.

Daryl, Glenn, and Rick had gone out salvaging. I had gotten a bad feeling before they left, but trusted all three of them. The mission was a few hours long. I was worried, but believed they'd be fine. But, when they got back, Daryl was hurt. A large set of shelves that stores usually used had fallen on him, breaking his arm. They had to carry him into the prison. He had his teeth gritted in pain, his opposite hand clentched.

Upon seeing him this way, I rushed to his side, took his hand (the one on the uninjured arm) and kissed him. "Hey, Angelface..." he murmured.

Everyone had seen this. Everyone. Half of them had dropped their jaw, but I didn't care. "Hershal'll fix you up," I reassured. "Then I'll get you back to our room." That was another thing. How the hell hadn't they realized we shared a room? Sure, it was as far back as we could go in the place, far away from them as possible, but still.

Daryl nodded and gripped my hand as Hershal set his arm and formed a splint around it to hold until it healed. After that, I brought him to our room and made him comfortable. Just when I was going to leave the room to get him food, he pulled me down besides him. "Hey, doll..." he whispered. I relaxed in his embrace. He still made every part of me burn at his touch.

"How're you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Tired." He had taken pain medication, so I wasn't surprised. "Listen, Blondie. Gotta say something before I fall asleep or get my common sense back. I want ya' t' listen, okay?"

I nodded. "Okay."

"I love ya'. And I'm glad we got through this shit together."

At that moment I felt a little overcome. While he and I were something more than just "fuck buddies" as he would put it, I never expected him to say those words.

"I love you too, Daryl." My voice was quiet, but loud enough for him to hear me.

Now that we were exposed to the group, people found us a little scarier, truthfully. It was like we were a power couple or something. Daryl on his own was one scary motherfucker (even though I wasn't a mother yet. Sorry, bad pun, I know). Me, I was a grade A bitch when I wanted to be. Together we were a force to be reckoned with. To be honest, we kinda abused that. We teamed up on people in arguments. In the rare times when we'd all go outside to play games like soccer or football, we kicked ass. He taught me the right way to throw a football and we dominated. I taught him a few soccer basics (I had played in grade school and college) and he caught on quick.

But when we played against each other, it was fierce. We were both decently competative, and usually surpassed the others in skill for those two games. They would put one of us on defence and the other on offence so we'd be forced to go up against each other. Though it was close, I usually beat him in soccer because I had better footwork. In football, I didn't hesitate to tackle him if he had the ball. Not that I'd always knock him down. He was a very sturdy man.

One month, I realized that "Aunt Flo" wasn't visiting. I shook it off. In times of stress, a woman's body did that. I expected it to come later. It didn't. When I told Daryl about missing it for so long, he understood my worries.

Well, actually, they weren't really worries much more. Just concerns. It had been over a year since I had lost Amy and Dale and we were safe. The prison was a haven. Easily protected and strong. So really, it was just concerns on how we would get supplies we needed. And if Daryl even wanted a child.

Daryl, though, was calm. He kissed my forehead and said he'd run out and find me a test. I thanked him and waited. When he got back, I practically ran to the bathroom with the thing. He waited just outside the door for me, wanting know just as much as I did.

The designated time passed. I looked at the test.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he looked at me. "Well?"

I bit my lip. "Do you want a child, Daryl?"

He settled his hands on my hips and pulled me close. Almost every inch of the front of our bodies was touching. It was comforting. " 'Course I do, Angelface," he mumbled. " 'Specially with you."

I smiled and leaned against him. "We'll have to start thinking of names, then."

"You want a girl or a boy?"

"I'd be happy with either."

We ended up with a boy. We named him Nathan Dale Dixon. He had my hair and Daryl's eyes. His first was "Mama". He turned out to be a Mama's boy. But our second child, a little girl named Jeani, was a Daddy's girl.

But, in my life, I'm happy to say, love has always been present. Grief, though, disappears over time, even if there's still some pain. Daryl's brought more love into my life than I could've thought possible. I'm sure he surprised himself too, with what he was used to.

But I know love overcomes grief.

Always.


End file.
